


The Box

by BreakfastTea



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Missing Scene, Star Trek: Into Darkness Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-03
Updated: 2013-06-03
Packaged: 2017-12-13 21:15:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/828963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BreakfastTea/pseuds/BreakfastTea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pike left Jim a box, a letter and a few mementos.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Box

It started with a box.  
  
“They dropped it off at reception,” Bones said as he placed it upon Jim’s bed.  
  
Jim recognised it.  Early Twenty-First Century, made of wood, with a brass panel shaped like a sextant.  He ran his fingers over the old design, breath caught in his throat as his nails traced the intricate lines.  He’d wanted to do this since he’d first set eyes upon it four years ago.  
  
“Jim?”  
  
Pike never said anything.  How had he known?  
  
“ _Jim_.”  
  
Bones’ tone jolted him.  “Um.” His voice shook.  “It’s Pike’s.” _Was_ Pike’s.  
  
Two weeks in a coma followed by days of drifting in and out of sleep hadn’t left him with any time to process what had happened.  
  
The mourning started with Pike’s box.  
  
“The courier said it was for you.”  
  
Jim nodded, not trusting himself to speak.  Opening it, the first thing he saw was an envelope with his name written upon its crisp white surface in black ink.  People rarely wrote on paper these days, but it was a habit that had never died out, just as paperbacks had never been completely wiped out.  
  
Tears smudged the black ink.  Jim hurriedly wiped his eyes and pulled the letter out, pretending like his hands weren’t trembling.  
  
The bed dipped as Bones sat down, his warm hand covering Jim’s, holding him steady.  A watery breath escaped Jim, more tears escaping.  
  
“You need a minute?” Bones asked softly.  
  
Clutching the letter in his hands, Jim nodded.  “Yeah, yeah, maybe.”  
  
Standing, Bones gave his hand one last squeeze.  “I’ll be right outside.”  
  
With the room to himself, Jim blinked hard and read the final words Pike had left for him.  
  
 _Jim_  
  
 _You know the drill, right? If you’re reading this, well, it’s happened.  I’m gone.  Don’t stain the ink, son, I had enough trouble keeping it legible myself.  I’m not admitting how many drafts this damn thing took.  That’s one secret I’ll be taking to my grave._  
  
 _You’re probably wondering why I didn’t just make a video.  Somehow, this felt better.  Plus the thought of filming a goodbye letter while I’m stuck in Starfleet Medical doesn’t really appeal to me.  I’m writing this not too long after you’ve set off on the_ Enterprise _for the first time as the official captain.  How does that feel? Better than stowing away, right? You’ve thanked McCoy for that, right? I did. Anyway, I’m not feeling exactly doomed right now, but that was a close call on the_ Narada _and I’m feeling wordy today. Maybe it’s the PT.  No way in hell am I staying in this damn chair for the rest of my life. Maybe in a few years if I redo this whole thing I will just spit this all out on camera.  If not, I’m hoping you’re reading this as an old, old man, older than Admiral Archer.  I wonder if I outlived Admiral Archer.  The man is older than dirt.  Oh, but if he is still around, don’t tell him I said that._  
  
 _But enough about me and my reasons.  This is meant to be for you.   Jim, you need to know how proud I am of you.  When I found in Iowa, angry at the universe and lashing out at the nearest convenient target, I dared you to do better. You did. You proved to everyone watching exactly the kind of man you are.  And that man is someone to be proud of, someone to admire.  I know I do._  
  
 _The box is yours. Did you think I never noticed how much you stare at it? You’re not very subtle about it.  I put a few other things in here for you too, and seeing as I’m probably writing this decades (a century?) before I actually die, I won’t make a list.  Who knows what I’ll add to it as I get older.  Whatever does wind up in here, I hope you’ll find use for it all.  And yeah, I packed tissues in here for you too.  Don’t ever let it be said I don’t think of these things._  
  
(Jim checked.  There were tissues.  He used a few before he could continue reading.)  
  
 _Anyway, this is getting ridiculous now, right? I just want you to know that no matter what you’ve done between today’s date and the day you’re actually reading this, I’m always going to be proud of you. You belong in space, Jim, and not just because you were born out there. There’s stardust in your blood, and if anyone’s going to discover strange new worlds and answer some of the questions we still have about the universe, it’s you. Be proud of who you are, stand by your beliefs and never let anyone bring you down._  
  
 _Just don’t start a war with the Klingons._  
  
 _Or the Romulans._  
  
 _Just don’t start any wars, okay?_  
  
 _Chris Pike_  
 _2258_  
  
Shaky laughter escaped Jim as he put the letter to one side and plucked objects out of the box.  The first was a photo.  It was a first year class photo from thirty or so years ago.  
  
Dad’s class photo.  He was unmistakeable, young, tall and proud to be in his cadet reds.  Mom stood a few rows away, bright and happy, her grin so wide she glowed with joy.  Pike was there too, not too far from Dad, cockier than the man Jim knew... had known.  
  
Turning the photo over, Jim found a note.  
  
 _Nostalgic, right? Happy Graduation, Chris!_  
  
 _GK_  
  
 _PS – Winona said yes!_  
  
Jim placed it atop the letter at his side.  He found an old compass, a book ( ** _2001: A Space Odyssey_** by Arthur C Clarke), old fashioned keys with a tag on them, the address somewhere in Mojave ( _somewhere to hide when you need to get away_ ) and scraps of disused uniforms with dates sewn into their corners (cadet reds, old school onesies, old gold shirts and instructor greys).  Then, at the very bottom, Jim found something unexpected.  
  
A recent graduation photo.  
  
His graduation photo, the shot they took of him on his own.  Jim stared at the massive smile on his own face.  Three years and Captain of the _Enterprise._ He’d been ecstatically happy.  Deliriously so, Bones had said.  Spock had pulled off spectacular eyebrow gymnastics in response to Jim’s enthusiasm that day.  Had that really been a year ago? Only a year ago? It felt like a lifetime ago.  
  
He had no idea Pike had a copy.  A printed, not just digital, copy.  
  
On the back, a single sentence: _He did it in three years._  
  
Jim laughed then.  He laughed because it was cheesy and overly sentimental.  
  
He didn’t laugh for long.  Tears caught hold.  He cried and he cried and his chest ached with a loss he hadn’t properly felt until now.  There was no one left to be angry at, no one to fight.  All Jim had was a box of Pike’s memories, a gift unlike any he had ever received.  
  
But Jim couldn’t puzzle out the meaning of it all right now.  All he could do was miss the man he owed everything to.  
  
And when Bones returned, he said nothing, just sat on Jim’s bed, put the bits and pieces to one side, and pulled Jim into his arms.  
  
They didn’t speak.  
  
Jim held tight, body heaving with sobs.  
  
Bones didn’t let go.

**Author's Note:**

> ...I will never, ever, ever be over what happened to Pike. First time I saw Into Darkness I was all "NOOOO! YOU CAN'T TAKE JIM'S DAD AWAY FROM HIM AGAIN!" And every subsequent viewing leads me to sit there and genuinely hope it'll be different this time...
> 
> ...seven times through and it never changes ;_;


End file.
